Insomnia
by AbsolutAnda
Summary: Even teenage spies get the occasional bout of insomnia. Quick little oneshot just for fun. Enjoy.


Well, I had a sudden bout of creativity after seeing my friend stay up for three days straight. And now I'm sick (damn my roommate to hell) with nothing to do, so I decided to crank out another oneshot. Sorry for any mistakes. It's unbeta-ed. My only editor is a cup of weird-tasting tea that will supposedly make me feel better. So far, I'm unconvinced.

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own anything that could possibly bring in any sort of profit. Thus the reason my roommate and I are bundled up under three blankets each as we can't afford to heat our house. It is 37 degrees outside tonight. Fall has come to Michigan.

_Insomnia_, by AbsolutAnda (formerly Saynt Jimmy)

Alex lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling through the darkness of his room, wide awake. His eyes roamed around above him as he briefly wondered whether he was actually seeing the ceiling in the dark, or if his brain was just telling him he was. It was amazing what horribly dull thoughts your mind could come up with while waiting for sleep. Snapping out of his thoughts, Alex turned his head to stare at the digital clock next to his bed, the numbers glowing green. _4:17._ This was the fourth night in a row.

Sighing, Alex rolled over to keep himself from staring at the clock any longer. He'd heard that makes it harder to sleep, watching the numbers tick by, putting pressure on yourself or some such nonsense. He shut his eyes again, hoping that this time he would be able to drift off into welcomed unconsciousness, but a few minutes later, his eyes snapped open again.

"Why is this happening?" He muttered to the darkness, frustrated beyond words. He was tired (he hadn't slept in four days), he wasn't worried about school (all of his homework had been done the night before while waiting for sleep to come), he wasn't worried about any missions (the bank hadn't called in over a month)…why couldn't he sleep? There was no explanation he could think of to reason his sudden bout of insomnia. This had never happened before, even on assignments.

"Alright, time to sleep." He ordered himself, squeezing his eyes shut again and shifting under his blankets to get more comfortable. "Here I go." There were a few moments of silence, during which he thought it might have been working, but sure enough, his eyelids popped open once more. "And I'm back."

Finally giving up, he threw back his blankets and padded to his door, opening it quietly as to not wake Jack, before heading downstairs. He easily navigated the familiar layout of the house without any lights, heading straight to the kitchen, intending to make himself a cup of tea. Sure, it hadn't worked the three nights before, but maybe it would do the trick _this_ time. He fumbled for the switch of the light over the stove for a moment, and then flicked it on, blinking in the sudden light flooding the corner of the kitchen. Then he noticed the dirty pots and dishes the littered the counter. Neither he nor Jack had felt up to the task of cleaning the kitchen earlier.

"Well," He said to himself in a weary voice. "I might as well do _something_ productive…"

"What's with you, then?" Alex turned his head towards Tom, his chin propped up on his desk by his palm, a vacant look adorning his features. "You look terrible." Tom elaborated with an amused grin. It wasn't often one would see Alex Rider so out of it.

Alex blinked hard as he realized that Tom was actually addressing him, as if that would wake him up. "Couldn't sleep last night." He muttered, directing his limited attention back to the front of the room, where the teacher was stepping the class through a difficult maths problem from the homework. Alex was glad he hadn't been the only one in the class who had spent an hour trying to work it through, only to fail in the end.

"_Just_ last night?" Tom whispered, absentmindedly copying down what was written on the board, not really thinking about what he was writing. He was more focused on his rather one-sided conversation with Alex. "You look like you haven't sleep in a week." Alex snorted as he wrote out the part of the problem he had gotten stuck on the night before, briefly wondering why he hadn't thought of solving it that way.

"Close. It's been four nights now."

"Insomnia?" Alex nodded. "I used to get that while my parents were divorcing." The thought crossed Alex's mind that it seemed as though Tom's parents had been divorcing for five years now, but he didn't comment. He had given up trying to decipher Tom's familial life, or lack thereof. "What always helped me, was going for a long run, and then drinking this tea my mom had to help her sleep. I don't remember what it was called, but it had a cartoon owl in pajamas on the front…" He was about to add more, but he was interrupted by the teacher calling back to them from the front of the room, a stern expression on his face.

"Tom! Alex! If you would be so kind as to finish your conversation after class…?"

"Tom, you are so full of _shit_." Alex groaned, now lying on his bed, fresh from his shower. The long run had done nothing to calm him down; instead, it seemed to have given him the energy to keep going for the rest of the night. Again, he stared up at the white ceiling, wondering how he was going to make it through the last day of the week. It had gotten to the point that the only thing keeping him from bursting into tears of exhaustion, was the optimistic thought of, _at least Blunt hasn't called for me_. He was fairly certain that if he were sent on an assignment in this state, it would take no more than a bad guy sticking his foot out in front of him to bring Alex down for the count.

He couldn't help but chuckle at the mental image of him falling boneless to the ground, after only being tripped.

A knock on his door brought him back to his exhausted reality.

"Alex?" It was Jack. She pushed the door open after a tired grunt from Alex, who didn't bother to sit up to look at her. "Did _you_ clean the kitchen last night?" She paused at the sight of him, lying on his back, his neck craned at an awkward angle to see her over his chest. The dark rings under his eyes were hard to miss. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He sighed, letting his head drop back onto the mattress. "Just having some trouble sleeping, is all."

Jack moved into his room to sit down next to him.

"Nightmares again?" She asked softly, as if she didn't really want to bring up the topic again.

"You have to be asleep in the first place to have nightmares." He deadpanned, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, burning with the want of sleep. He could feel Jack's eyes on him as he sighed again.

"Insomnia?" He seemed to be hearing that word a lot lately. He nodded, not moving his hands. He didn't really want to see the look on Jack's face as she asked the question he knew was coming. "Is it MI6-related? Something about all those assignments?"

"No." He asked flatly, pretending he didn't hear the almost inaudible breath of relief Jack let out. Issues with MI6 made her nervous. "I just can't get to sleep. It's something else."

"For how long?"

"Four nights now, going on five." He finally moved his hands, running them down his face before resuming his staring contest with the ceiling. He already knew the expression on Jack's face without looking. He'd seen it many times before, on more people than just Jack. Sympathy, worry, fear…_pity._ That expression drove him nuts, almost to the point of yelling. He hated the look of pity people got when they realized everything he went through, both involving MI6 and just his life in general. That look always preceded an awkward silence, during which they didn't know how to proceed with the conversation; as if what they said next could somehow change his situation.

"What have you tried to help you sleep?" He was grateful she didn't linger on the topic of his missions.

"Tea, running, warm milk –it's just as disgusting as it sounds, counting to a hundred _in every language I know_, listening to music…probably more that I've forgotten." He added, when he realized that couldn't be all he had tried.

"Okay, I've got just the thing." She announced after thinking for a moment, shifting on the edge of Alex's bed to get more comfortable. "My mom used to sing this to me when I was little and I couldn't sleep. Don't laugh." She added, at Alex's dubious expression. She sat for a minute, and then looked at him again, still with the same expression on his face. "Better yet, just close your eyes…okay…_Once there was a way to get back homeward,_ _Once there was a way to get back home._ _Sleep pretty darling, do not cry…"_

"Jack." Alex interrupted her, his eyes opening to give her another dubious look.

"Yeah?"

"You're an awful singer." His face cracked into a grin as Jack scowled. She stood up, pretending to be more offended than she really was. She knew she wasn't much as a singer.

"Fine. Sing yourself to sleep. I'm going to make some tea." She stalked out, but Alex knew she would be back. And sure enough, a few minutes later, she came back in, carrying a mug of dark tea.

"I've already tried that." Alex stated flatly, before she could even say anything.

"Oh no you haven't. Not _this_ tea." She carefully handed him the mug, making sure he had a grip on it before letting go. "_This_ tea, my dad sent me while he was stationed in Japan. I've been using it for years. It will knock you out like Muhammad Ali." She said with a grin at Alex's doubtful look. He stared at the cup for a moment, then his eyes flicked up to Jack's face, and then back down to the tea.

"You've put something in this, haven't you?" He accused.

"It's not _drugged._" Jack assured him with an eye roll. "When have I ever drugged you? Just drink it."

Alex gave her one last look before cautiously taking a sip. He pulled a face.

"This is awful. What is this?"

"Just drink it."

Giving up, Alex steeled himself and continued to take slow sips of the tea, feeling his body getting curiously heavier with each swallow. Through his slipping eyelids, he could see the smug look on Jack's face as she watched his eyes start to drift shut. He frowned, meaning to let out another smartass comment about useless teas, but before he could open his mouth, he felt his head start to roll to the side, sinking deeper into his pillow. He was vaguely aware of Jack taking the mug from his hands and ruffling his damp hair, but before he could say anything in protest, he slipped away into blissful slumber.

"That'll teach you to insult my singing." Jack muttered with a grin, standing up and heading for the door. She closed the door as quietly as possible and then headed back down to the kitchen to rinse out the mug. After she put it in the dishwasher, she looked around the clean kitchen briefly, spotting the tea box on the counter, the little cartoon owl staring back at her with a drowsy expression. "And thank you Mr. Owl…" She chuckled, closing the box and putting it back in the cabinet, hiding it behind the dozens of other teas they had acquired over the years.

Well, there you have it; my crappy little oneshot for the night. It's now after 1am and, seeing as I'm actually sick and have to get up to go to class tomorrow (damn you, college!), I must be going. Oh, that tea with the cartoon owl on the box really does exist. It's actually for kids, but when my roommate gave it to me, it knocked me out in about five minutes. I don't think I've ever slept that hard in my life. I have no idea what's in it, but it worked…and for some reason, they don't list the ingredients on the box…

The song Jack sings is _Golden Slumbers _by The Beatles. My friend sings it to her little daughter so I decided to throw that in there.

Leave a review and let me know of any mistakes you spot that my Menthol-induced haze has managed to miss.

Anda


End file.
